


melt with you

by thunderpike



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Keith centric, M/M, Original Character(s), PINING KEITH, idk how to tag, keith and lance make a good team, keith is a good friend, lance is also a good friend, shiro's family adopts keith essentially, they're cute ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderpike/pseuds/thunderpike
Summary: Keith and Lance spend their childhood summers chasing each other on hot black top surfaces and exploring Keith's backyard for hidden treasure. Eventually (or maybe it always has been) it becomes something more.





	melt with you

**Author's Note:**

> hello guys! just a few things:  
> I started this back in feb, way before we were introduced to krolia and texas (lol). So if this seems inconsistent with the way they are written in canon - that's why.  
> Also, I just really hope you guys like this.  
> Okay!!! That's all! Enjoy :) 
> 
> ps if there are any grammatical/spelling errors I Am Sorry 
> 
> pps u can find me on twit -- tinykil

****

When Keith was small, his mama used to say that good things come to those who wait. Maybe that’s why Keith waited for her on that front porch in Texas for all those years. He had never been the patient type; but that didn’t stop him from plopping his ass down on that front porch from the time school let out until stars erupted overhead. He could always picture her leaving; her tall figure becoming smaller and smaller as she walked the long dirt road that lead away from her home, from Keith. It’s funny, because now, Keith realized he could never picture her coming back.

He waited even though his daddy would grumble about how “she ain’t ever comin’ back boy,” in that Texas drawl of his and it would settle over Keith like a gust of cold desert air. Keith would later find out that his daddy had been right. 

He waited for her up until his dad died; that summer before he went into second grade was blistering hot. He waited on that damn porch even though rivulets of sweat would drench his collar and the hair at the nape of his neck. With his mama gone and his daddy, too, they were shipping him off to somewhere more North. He had family there, or something. Keith watched the driveway one last time before he left, and didn’t look back when the car taking him up North peeled out of the drive, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. 

Watching as the sunset drenched the browning grass in saturated golden hues, Keith promised to never come back. He was going to leave Texas and his broken heart behind. Years later Keith would look back at this moment and realize this was the moment the truly realized he was a boy abandoned. Nobody ever seemed to stay, each one packing up a piece of him as they shipped out. 

Anyway, turns out the ‘family’ he had up North was his dad’s brother and his wife and son. Keith’s dad had never mentioned having any family left. This became a reoccuring theme for Keith growing up; he just didn’t know anything about his parents. There were more gaps to fill each year, more he didn’t understand about who he was or where he came from. His uncle, Johnny, looked remarkably like his dad . He had the same thick chin and square jaw. However, Keith didn’t look much like his dad. His features were softer, less square, and sharper like the edge of a blade. 

When his dad was still alive, he’d tell Keith how much he looked more like his mama. He said they shared the same eyes; Keith could see her in the mirror at times. But after awhile he stopped looking for her there, stopped chasing her in his reflection, and she became one of many ghosts Keith learned to ignore. 

Keith’s uncle had taken him in and fed him, clothed him, but never tried to reach out. His aunt, Lucy, was much kinder and she seemed to like having another boy running around the house. Keith felt bad, kind of, when he thought of his Aunt Lucy’s big earnest eyes and how badly she wanted to nurture him, and how he bristled when she tried at first. In the first few weeks of living up north, Keith would find ways to make himself scarce, and only clambered back inside once the sun had set and everyone was already down for the night. 

That only lasted so long, because after awhile Lucy would start waiting up for him, and he stopped staying out late once he noticed how drawn out she looked the next morning. He did meet Shiro, his cousin, during his time living in the that small Ohio town. Someone who Keith is grateful to know everyday. 

Shiro was the kindest person Keith had ever met—in his whole life probably. Shiro looked a lot like Johnny, and in turn looked a lot like Keith’s dad. He was softer around the edges than Johnny, not as sharp and more kind like his mother.  He was about eight years older, and he included Keith whenever he could. Shiro taught him how to skip rocks in the stream behind their house, and how suck the nectar from a honeysuckle flower. That first summer Keith spent in Ohio, Shiro taught him how to dive from the top diving board at the YMCA, and how to ride a bike. Keith had never wondered before what it meant to have brother, but Shiro taught him that, too. Shiro offered Keith endless support, encouraging him to be a better person. It was with his time spent with his new brother that Keith began to think the world wasn’t as bleak and colorless as he was made to think. 

Shiro was, the kindest person, at least until he met Lance McClain that first day in second grade. Keith was a distant kid; and he never felt any inclination to be anything different. He never played well with the other kids back in Texas, and chose to swing in solitude during recess. That was how it used to be, at least. That was all he knew. 

Lance was a year younger than Keith, but they shared the same grade (Keith was held back in kindergarten because he didn’t speak often, so his teachers thought he was behind the other kids). Keith vividly remembers the first time he ever saw Lance McClain. It was a Wednesday, the first day of the new school year. This new school filtered in kids from all over the rural county, but because it was small, everyone knew everyone else. Keith was an outsider, again. 

The summer was milder up North; no longer did Keith get to watch the waves of heat coming off asphalt, and he found himself missing it as he walked along the designated path to his new school. Keith hadn’t been nervous about going to a new school until the time came for him to actually walk inside. The school was a two story, brick building with tiny yellow and pink speckled flower beds out front. In big, blocky letters “BALMERA ELEMENTARY” was written across its facade.

Keith clenched his tiny fists, a habit he still hasn’t quite broken, and willed his heart to stop beating like a caged bird in his chest. Somewhere down the block was Balmera High School, where Shiro was starting this year. All Keith had to do was make it through his first day, and meet Shiro out front when the day ended. Shiro promised him his favorite ice cream as a reward for making it through the first day. Keith could do anything for cookie dough ice cream. 

Finally, mustering all of the courage he had, he pushed against the heavy wooden doors of Balmera Elementary. Keith’s nose crinkled, his eyes scanning the warm wooden floors, and the walls, which were covered in student artwork. There was a banner directly across from Keith that said “WELCOME BACK STUDENTS”. Keith panicked a little bit then, not knowing where to go, and not knowing who to ask. Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest. 

He missed his mama, and his daddy. His mama would let him cling to her leg, let him hide behind her when he got overwhelmed. All he wanted was his mama—

And then Lance touched his shoulder. Keith remembers it being gentle; so much so that he almost didn’t feel it. Keith instinctively jumped at the touch, twirling on his heel to see who had done it. Lance just smiled crookedly at him, extending a hand.

“Hi, my name’s Lance.” Lance motioned with his chin slightly, as if to get Keith to notice the palm of his outstretched hand. Keith had, indeed, noticed the hand but was too shy to actually do anything about it. “Um, normally people shake hands when they meet. At least that what my mom says.” Lance pushed his palm forward, shaking it slightly, and looked expectantly at Keith. 

Keith looked at Lance’s hand for another five seconds before unclenching his fist at his side and placing his hand in Lance’s palm. “Keith.” He hated how small he sounded. But Lance beamed brightly at him, looking as brilliant and sunny as any summer sky back in Texas. Keith hesitantly smiled back. 

“You’re new, aren’t you?” And then Lance did that  _ thing _ , that thing he still does to this day. He tilted his head to the side, just slightly, and playfully upturned one side of his mouth into an adorable half-smirk. He only did it when he was teasing Keith. Although sometimes, when he was looking at something that didn’t quite make sense to him, he would lose the half-smirk and purse his lips into a small frown. Keith had been on the receiving end of both of those looks a lot over the years.  

Not knowing what to say, and not trusting his own voice, Keith simply nodded. 

“Great! I’ll show you around.” And then they were off. Keith was being pulled along by his hand (Keith to this day thinks that they just never let go after shaking hands, which, admittedly, are not how handshakes typically work), but Keith really didn’t mind. 

***

Ohio really didn’t have much to offer two young boys—so they had to make do. Keith was a quick study, and learned fast that Lance, more than anything, wanted to go to space. In the waning summer months, at the start of their third grade year, Lance asked Keith to spend the night with him so they could look at the telescope his moms had gotten him for his birthday. Lance mumbled about as he fiddled about his telescope, his tongue poking out of his lips every so often as he tried to align the scope with whatever it is he was he was looking for up there. 

“I don’t get why you like space so much,” Keith said quietly, mostly to himself as he lifted his head skyward and squinted at the speckles of starlight overhead. 

“Well,” Lance had stopped fiddling with his telescope, and was now looking to the sky like Keith. They stood next to each other for a long time, looking up. “It’s just really cool.” A pause. “And aliens.” 

“You believe in aliens?” Keith asked without judgement, removing his eyes from the cloudless night to look at Lance. 

“Of course!” Lance’s smile was subtle, one that Keith rarely saw because when Lance smiled, he did so with his whole face. With his eyes and his lips and with his cheeks. Sometimes Keith found himself wondering if he ever smiled like that; if his smiles ever looked as brilliant as Lance’s. 

“Okay, what kind of aliens?” 

Lance then delved into an hour long talk about aliens (he seemed most enamoured with the idea of an aquatic humanoid species, which made Keith roll his eyes—Lance just loved the idea of mermaids). Keith liked listening to Lance—always has. Even now, with so many years of friendship behind them, Keith still finds that wild, untamed pieces of him settle at the sound of Lance’s voice. He fills the silence, and never prods Keith into discussion. Lance has always known that Keith speaks whenever he feels necessary, however, he has never pressured Keith for more than what was offered to him. 

He loves Lance fiercely for this; this part of Lance who has never tried to make him different, the part of him that has accepted him quietly and without question for who he always has been. 

“Besides, weren’t you paying attention in science this week? Miss Green said that everything is made of,” Lance paused, his mind attempting to find the word he was looking for. 

“Atoms?” Keith supplied. Lance nodded his head enthusiastically, quickly looking to the night sky before locking eyes with Keith and smiling wide. 

“Yes, thank you. Everything is made up of atoms. That means if there  _ are  _ aliens, which there  _ are _ , they aren’t that different than us. We’re all made up of the same stuff. That’s pretty cool.” 

Keith nodded in quiet agreement, not really knowing what to say to that. He had never thought that he could be like other people. He had always seemed so different. He was always too quiet, too mean without meaning to be, too much, not enough. Keith sat down in the grass, pulling his legs up to meet his chest, and rested his chin against his knees. He had always been an outsider, someone the other kids never bothered with. Lance was the first to ever try to get to know him. 

“Keith?” Lance asked, coming down to sit next to Keith in the grass. He was sitting with his legs fully extended outwards, his arms out behind him as he leaned back and looked to the sky again. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re my best friend.” Lance said suddenly. “Everyone always tells me I’m stupid for thinking aliens are out there.”

“What?” Keith sat up, brought out of his thoughts by Lance’s tone. Keith paused, and his heart ached a little bit, looking at Lance’s crestfallen expression. “You aren’t stupid, Lance. Aliens are super cool.” 

“See! That’s why you’re my best friend,” Lance smiled, and extended his hand to Keith, who unlike the first time they met, took it without hesitation. “Lay back and I’ll tell you all the constellations I’ve memorized. 

Keith scoffed, because Lance had an incurable thirst to always show off, even if it was just for Keith. But in the end he did just that, laying on his back next to Lance. Shoulder to shoulder, Lance told Keith about all of the constellations he knew. He pointed to where they were in the sky, and in a hushed whisper, told Keith the stories behind each one; about Andromeda, the chained lady, and about Cassiopeia, the Queen of the Night Sky. Keith held onto Lance’s hand, thinking about aliens alike and unlike him, and felt himself settle to the sound of Lance’s voice. 

***

“Come on slowpoke!” Keith teased, his own legs propelling him forward swiftly. Lance and him had recently discovered a creek out behind Keith’s house. They had spent the last remaining weeks of the warm summer months before the fifth grade exploring the waterbeds in search of buried treasure. 

“How are you so fast!” Lance asked, finally catching up to Keith at the edge of the water. It sounded more like a statement, so Keith just shrugged. “Wait, look!” 

A frog had nestled itself on the top of Keith’s shoe, who, of course, had the immediate reaction of trying to fling it off. 

“Keith, no!” Lance could anticipate Keith’s actions better than anyone, and stopped Keith from turning the frog into a projectile object. Keith shrugged, and looked curiously at Lance as he stood up, the frog now nestled safely within the confines of the enclosure his cupped hands made. “It’s our first friend!” Lance said, and gave Keith a broad smile, his dimples visible on either side of his cheeks. 

“B-but its a  _ frog _ ,” Keith said, poorly masked confusion evident in his voice as he looked at Lance, who was now sitting on a rock with the frog. Their eyes met after a moment, Lance still looked undeniably excited, like he had just found a wadded up twenty dollar bill in his pocket. 

“Yeah, so?” Lance seemed to catch the question in the lilt of Keith’s voice and looked at the frog, then at Keith, and then at the frog again. Keith followed the motions of it, watched as the sly grin formed on Lance’s lips and was somehow still caught off guard when Lance next spoke. “I think we’re gonna be best friends, isn’t that right frogman?” 

Lance was now addressing the frog in formal sentences and Keith felt confused, now more than ever, at the tiny speckle of jealousy that flashed before his vision. He looked at the frog now, dirty with slim and mud, sitting in Lance’s palm like the damn king of some nowhere place and never hated a creature more. He felt himself frown, processed the words  _ best friend _ , and looked at Lance, whose sly grin was still plastered against the warm brown of his cheeks. 

“It’s a frog, Lance.” Keith bent down at the waist, peaking at the frog through squinted eyes, his eyebrows sitting in an unhappy V on his forehead. 

“Yeah, he is,” Lance grinned, inching the frog so it could be closer to his chest. “His name is Bartholomew. I’m gonna call him Bart for short.” 

“Lance, you can’t name him Bart.” 

“I can and I will!” Lance shouted, half laughing and half serious. He stood and Keith stood with him. A serious looking expression fell upon Lance’s face, though his eyes gave him away. They always did. Sadness, anger, happiness all could be read in those eyes with a mere glance. And right now they should tell him that he’s teasing Keith. Though Keith was too distracted, as he was thinking about what in the world would motivate Lance to name the frog  _ Bartholomew _ . 

“B-” Keith started but was abruptly cut off, as Lance was now reciting a sweeping declaration of love for Bart. 

“I love Bart. Maybe if I kiss him he’ll turn into a prince like in that movie my sisters and I watched!” Lance was bouncing excitedly on his feet, untamed curls bounced in front of his eyes and he gave a half attempt to brush them out of the way before giving up and deciding to stare at Bart instead. “Do you think I should kiss him and find out?”

“What? No! Lance, it could have diseases or something!” Keith looked at the frog with thinly veiled disgust before levelling a look with Lance. 

The frog was sitting in the palm of Lance’s hand still, completely unaware of what Lance and Keith were arguing about. Lance had taken offense to Keith’s (completely justifiable) comment apparently and was now clutching the thing close to his chest. 

“Keith! Don’t talk about him like that, he has ears!” Lance said through a gasp, and tacked on, “and he has a name!” 

“It’s a frog!” Keith’s hands gestured wildly above his head. “It can’t understand us!”

“That’s just what you’re conditioned to think,” Lance said smartly, holding his chin out as he snuck a glance at his hands to make sure Bart was still safely tucked between his shirt and his hand. He was. “Of course he can understand you!”

Keith let a breath of angry air expel from his nose. It was just a  _ frog _ . What would  _ it  _ know about how Keith feels about it. Besides, he barely felt anything for it—it was a frog! A disgusting, slimy, gross—

“Once I kiss Bart, we can get married,” Lance’s voice pulled Keith from his inner monologue. Keith floundered a bit, not knowing how to respond to that. 

That frog had managed to steal his best friend in a matter of mere minutes and now it was going to marry Lance? The frog. A frog had done that in seconds. Keith hated that frog. 

“Lance, you can’t marry the frog.” Keith, unable to hide the sheer disappointment in his voice, opted to stare at the rocky creekbed. He kicked a stone into the water, relishing in the sound of his feet crunching the rocks underfoot. 

“And why not?” 

“Well, I-” Keith felt the answer was painfully obvious. It was a frog. Though Keith’s wave of jealousy was back, released tenfold, as he processed the fact that Lance would  _ marry  _ the frog. Keith didn’t think this was supposed to bother him this much, but it did. And now, looking back, it was clear as crystal why he had been that jealous over Bart. 

“You what?” Lance prodded. 

“Well if you marry  _ Bart _ ,” Keith emphasized the things name, looking up from the trickling water to meet Lance’s eyes. “Who am I going to marry?” 

Lance paused, his smile faltering slightly as he looked at Keith. 

“You want to marry  _ me _ ?” Lance’s eyes were as wide as the moon, and his mouth hung open disbelievingly. 

“Well, yeah.” Keith kicked another rock, and he watched as it skipped over the slow moving water once before plopping underneath the sluggish current. He hated how small his voice sounded. Keith hoped that Lance wouldn’t laugh at him. 

“Why?” Keith chanced a look in Lance’s direction, and the usual mirth that clouded his eyes was replaced with that of confusion. Lance tilted his head a little, and looked at Keith like he was trying to figure something out. Like Keith was one of those Sudoku puzzles Shiro did when he thought no one was watching him. 

Keith hadn’t wanted to say it outloud, because truthfully, he didn’t know why he thought Lance and him should get married one day. It made sense, though. They make a good team—like when they team up and play pranks on their gym teacher Mr. Iverson. In the narrow way in which Keith saw the world, him and Lance made sense. He felt his cheeks heat up, and hoped Lance didn’t notice when he turned away fully to hide his flush. 

“Because we’re best friends?” Keith knew it came out more as a question, but he just couldn’t let Lance know he was jealous of a frog. 

“Of course we’re best friends, Red. Come on, I’ll let Bart go and we can go bother Shiro into taking us to get us ice cream.” 

When he turned around to face Lance, he had already set Bart on the rock he had been sitting on previously. Lance wiped his hand on his shorts before offering it to Keith, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. Keith took Lance’s hand, threading their fingers together. 

“Maybe we can convince Shiro to take us to see a movie, too,” Keith said, leading Lance away from the stream and back the way they came. Their footfalls were muted as they stepped over moss and softened waterlogged leaves. “I bet I can get him to take us because I caught him coming home past curfew last night and he doesn’t want his dad knowing where he was.” 

“Keith! That’s blackmail!” Lance squawked, and he tightened his grip on Keith so he would turn to face him. Lance was looking at Keith with a radiant smile, and Keith felt himself blossom at the fact that he could make Lance smile like that. 

“Yeah, so? You’re the one who said we should bother him into getting us ice cream,” Keith smiled, small and just for Lance. He tugged Lance’s hand and they resumed walking, this time remaining side by side. 

“You’re gonna get us in big trouble one day,” Lance huffed a laugh and bumped his shoulder into Keith’s—and Keith quickly did the same. 

“I don’t care if we get in trouble,” Keith shrugged, bringing the hand not clasped within Lance’s to move his bangs from out of his eyes. “I bet you could figure a way to talk us out of it anyway. You’re good at that.” 

“Sure, you make the mess and I use my charm to clean it up.” 

“I don’t think I’d mind getting in trouble as long as we did it together.” 

***

Keith’s memory of his childhood in Texas is muddled at best; clouded by the years and forgotten amongst the new memories he had living up North. He had more memories of his dad but they were inconsequential and he tried not to think about him, about how he didn’t seem to want Keith after his mama left. Yet his dad’s work boots, the smell of his aftershave on Sunday morning, the rough palms of his hands in Keith’s were left seared into his mind. He has a harder time placing his mama in these broken fragments—she doesn’t seem to fit anywhere anymore—and he has an even harder time trying to forget the little things about her he did remember.

Sometimes, Keith will lay awake at night and picture his mama’s braided coal black hair, how it would lay against her spine like a long serpent, how it would sometimes curl around her waist. She always smelled like cinnamon, though Keith can’t remember her ever cooking with it. He remembers the quick whip of her tongue when his daddy said something she didn’t like. He can remember his mama sitting on the back porch, humming that old song her and his daddy would dance to sometimes late at night when they thought Keith had gone to bed. 

Keith remembers being lulled awake by the distant sound of their kitchen radio, and he would drift downstairs to the music. He’d hide behind the doorframe and watch his daddy twirl his mama around and around, their bodies disrupting the moonlight in long shadows on the cool tile. 

“There’s nothing you and I can’t do,” Keith’s daddy would whisper, dipping his mama low, so low her long braid would gather in a pile on the kitchen tile. His mama would laugh, sudden and sharp against the dreamy guitar, though it just made his daddy smile wider, and he’d clutch her tighter. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” 

Keith would watch as they’d twirl and dance around the kitchen until they finally slowed, until they were simply holding each other and swaying in place. Keith’s mama liked to play with the hair at his daddy’s neck and his daddy liked to hold onto her waist and rest his head on her shoulder. His mama would rest her cheek on his daddy’s head and would speak to him, too quietly so that Keith couldn’t hear. 

Soon after that Keith would wander back upstairs, climb into bed and fall asleep, wondering if it had all been a dream or something real. 

Keith lies awake now, similarly, listening to distant music and wondering if it is all real, if this is his life. He misses his daddy’s calloused hands and his mama’s soft ones. He missed the sound of them dancing in the waning evening hours. He missed them. 

***

Simply put, Keith loved to have sleepovers with Lance. He loved the anticipation of waiting to see one of Lance’s moms pull in his driveway, and he loved the goofy grin Lance wore as he walked up to his house with all of his video games and favorite movies clutched tightly to his chest. Secretly, Keith would watch from the top of the stairs, looking through the foyer’s windows as Lance struggled for a moment in juggling all of the items in his arms while trying to ring the doorbell (Lance insisted on doing this, even after Aunt Lucy had told him he didn’t need to). Keith loved to watch Lance haphazardly launch himself on his bed while simultaneously discarding all of his brought belongings on Keith’s bedroom floor. He loved building the pillow fort they’d use to watch movies in all night long. He loved that Lance would always fall asleep first because that meant he got to draw silly designs on his face. And he loved that he got to giggle to himself in the morning when Lance didn’t notice, not even after going to the bathroom. He really loved sleepovers with his best friend. 

When Shiro was around, he would drive Keith to the convenience store and have him pick out his favorite candies (Sour Patch Kids him, and he always grabbed a few Milky Way bars for Lance because he knew they were his favorite), chips, and anything else he wanted. Shiro would drive him in his beat up pick up that he bought saving up money working summers at the  _ Juniberry Creamery _ in town. 

Though, Shiro had left for college in the fall and wouldn’t be home for another month. So he walked by himself, to the store a half mile from his home. He liked to browse the isles by himself, but sometimes he brought along his Aunt Lucy when he didn’t feel like being alone. 

Keith sometimes let himself wonder what it would be like if he still had his mom around. He had his Aunt Lucy, but she nothing like his mother; she was softer, around the edges at least. Where Keith’s mom was all feline intensity, his Aunt Lucy was doe eyed, and round faced. She lacked the sharp edges. From his cluttered memory Keith could pull images of a woman with iron bones, a woman that loved with the intensity of a supernova in her chest, a woman who was no nonsense and never apologized for it. That woman was his mother, his mama. His Aunt Lucy loved with the same ferocity but lacked the same hardened skin--she was a woman who wore her emotions on her face, her heart on her sleeve. Her love was always expressed from her lips. Keith appreciated this about his Aunt Lucy, because at least with her he always knew where he stood. 

She wasn’t his mother but she was someone who cared deeply for him, not that Keith realized until later. It wasn’t until after Shiro left for college that this became apparent. Keith had asked her why she wasn’t more sad that Shiro had left (because he was feeling a bit bad about it himself) and she simply laughed, pushed his hair from his forehead and said “because I still have you, lovebug,” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

As if giving him unprompted affection wasn’t enough, she was also just one of the kindest ladies Keith had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Sleepovers were always held at Keith’s house (because Lance didn’t like being bothered by his siblings when he and Keith were marathoning a show) and Aunt Lucy never seemed to mind, and often encouraged Keith to have them. 

His Aunt Lucy adored Lance as well. It seemed to Keith that she had to have an endless reservoir of love somewhere within her own heart, to give it so freely to someone who wasn’t her own family. He loved his Aunt Lucy fiercely for this, for loving Lance like he had come to love him. 

Keith picked at the frayed ends of his jeans, anxiously awaiting Lance’s arrival. They were going to spend all night playing  _ Super Smash Bros _ , and Keith was anticipating the win he was determined to add to his side of their game board. Lance had promised Keith that if he won so many games before summer started that he would convince his moms to take them to the Columbus Zoo (their resident hippo had recently become a new mother and Keith was dying to see her baby with his own eyes). So the stakes were high, and he wanted to see the baby calf. It was imperative that he beat Lance tonight in  _ Super Smash Bros _ , because then he would finally be ahead in their race of who had the most wins. 

“Keith, honey, Lance won’t be here for another hour. Why don’t you help me out in the kitchen? I’m baking some cookies for you boys,” Aunt Lucy was suddenly upon him, shrouding his view of the foyer windows. Her smile was always so uninhibited, always so bright. Keith tried to remember the last time he had seen her angry, but he couldn’t place it. She contained no malice whatsoever.  Her hair was always haphazardly thrown up somehow--today she had managed to tie it up with a pencil, and tendrils of chestnut hair were falling in her face. His mother always wore her hair in a tight braid, and would only let it fall loose when she was going to bed. Keith chose not to dwell on this, and smiled instead. 

“Are you making your famous chocolate chip ones? The ones with the peanut butter chips?” Keith asked because he knows Lance loves them, and stands on the step he was previously using as a perch to watch his driveway. 

“Well, of course!” Aunt Lucy said, reaching up and pushing a strand of Keith’s hair that had fallen into his eyes behind his ear. “Now you coming or what, lovebug?” 

“Yes!” Keith smiled, jumping from four steps up on the stairs and onto the floor. 

“Be careful!” Aunt Lucy yells from behind him, swatting him with a towel as he runs into the kitchen, and he can’t help but laugh again. 

 

Hours later, Lance and him lay in Keith’s bed, tired enough to sleep but still whispering into the darkness surrounding them. Keith liked these moments; the ones where his belly was filled with warm cookies, the ones where he knew Lance was only an arm’s length away. 

“Hey, Keith?” Lance’s voice cuts out into the darkness after a momentary silence, and Keith looks to his direction-- he can see the faint outline of Lance’s profile, can just make out the slope of Lance’s nose, the curve of it. He hums in response, his own voice raspy from talking for so long. “Do you ever think about your mom?” 

The question takes Keith by surprise, and he feels himself stiffen involuntarily. Over the years Keith had offered very little information about his parents. He doesn’t even know that much himself, about her that is. Her eyes, and the image of her walking away are the most prevalent memories he has of her. But, this is Lance, and he could never lie to him. The information given to Lance in the past has never made him look at Keith any differently. It wasn’t like when he told other people--Lance never pitied him, never looked at him like some motherless basketcase. 

“Oh, yes, sometimes,” Keith offers after a few moments. 

“And your dad?” Lance asks, his voice soft against the pounding in Keith’s ears. 

“Yes.” 

“And do you miss living in Texas?” 

“No,” Keith scoffs, and he reaches blindly under the covers and touches Lance’s side. “I have Shiro and Aunt Lucy.” A pause. “And you, you’re all here. Texas is just the place I was born. This place,” Keith pokes Lance’s side again and Lance huffs and squirms away. He laughs, but the sound is muffled against his sheets. “This place is home. I love living here.” 

Lance squeals when Keith touches his cold toes to his calves. Laughing, Keith thinks that, even without his mom and dad, he has this. And Lance. And Shiro. And he even has Aunt Lucy. He has a whole family. 


End file.
